


Arfin

by isasolan



Series: Arafinwë [6]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brothers, Family, Fluff, Gen, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Linguistic shenanigans, Little Brothers, Not Happy Ever After but Getting there, Sindarin mishaps, Uncles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isasolan/pseuds/isasolan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some time in the Third Age, Celebrían learns something about her grandfather during tea.</p><p>Short and fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arfin

**Author's Note:**

> "The prefixation [of fin-] in the case of Finarfin was made by Finrod only after the death of Fingolfin in single combat with Morgoth. The Ñoldor then became divided into separate kingships under Fingon son of Fingolfin, Turgon his younger brother, Maedros son of Fëanor and Finrod son of Arfin; and the following of Finrod had become the greatest." (The Shibboleth of Fëanor)

"I thank you for this lovely afternoon, Grandfather Finarfin."

 

Celebrían is surprised to hear her uncle Angrod stifle a laugh. She looks at him, puzzled, but his eyes are on Finrod. Her other uncle is stirring his beverage intently, as if he had not noticed. She turns her gaze back to her grandfather, who now bears a sheepish smile.

 

"Oh, child. I do beg you, please do not call me Finarfin. It is such a dreadfully silly name, I cringe every time I hear it."

 

She gapes at him. "You find your name silly...?"

 

Angrod is outright laughing by now, but Finrod still stirs his drink. Finarfin's smile turns even more sheepish.

 

"Not my name, beloved. Arfin is a fine translation. It's the Fin- prefix I am little endeared to."

 

Celebrían has to look far in her memories to remember where the Fin- had come from, back to the Quenya lessons of her childhood with her mother, patient and kind. No, she must not think of her, not now. Finwë Arafinwë, devised in the First Age by... was it her uncle Finrod? To go with Finwë Nolofinwë, her great-granduncle's political name.

 

"Oh," she says. _Oh_. "It is the... politics behind it that you dislike?"

 

"In a way. I am still not sure what a Finwë is supposed to be? I would hope not a _version_ of my father... In which case I would prefer to be just myself. Just grandfather Arfin, if you please? My darling," he says, and squeezes her hand softly.

 

Celebrían cannot help laughing, and more so because her uncle Angrod is still giggling and elbowing Finrod. His teasing reminds her of the twins, for some reason. Instead of the expected sorrow this makes her terribly amused.

 

"Very well, grandfather Arfin! But only if uncle Finrod stops looking so crestfallen," she says, the mirth altering her voice far more than she thought possible.

 

"Ai, do stop teasing your brother like a child," her grandfather says, but Angrod's smile does not waver. "It was a perfectly understandable decision, given the climate of the First Age, and I begrudge him not for it in the least."

 

"'Tis no matter, father," Finrod says dryly, and briefly glares at his brother. "I know you do not."


End file.
